


Days of Auld Lang Syne

by leiascully



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Community: ppth_support, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-31
Updated: 2008-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sister Mary Augustine has lived a blameless life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days of Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S1  
> A/N: For the New Year's Eve party at [**ppth_support**](http://community.livejournal.com/ppth_support/), the NYE of the nun from DIYD. Happy new year!  
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are the property of Shore Z, Bad Hat Harry, and Fox. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Sister Mary Augustine has lived a blameless life.

That's what Mother Superior tells her, anyway. "Who you were before you came to us doesn't matter, child. You walk with God now. He has washed away your sins. In his sight, you are reborn."

If that's true, then she's awfully tall for a ten year old. But she tries to focus on the larger lesson of it and the glory of God's forgiveness. She has a new life.

Still, on New Year's Eve, she remembers. It was always her favorite holiday: free of religious baggage, full of champagne and kisses and fireworks. A new start. A clean slate. Now, of course, she recognizes that in herself, the yearning to start over, but then at the time, she was just desperate to cram in as much fun as she could before time ticked away and the year changed and she would be somebody else.

Every other day she's happy scrubbing pots and kneeling in the garden. Not happy, exactly, but content. Content in her bones where there used to be only sharp aches of desire. Only on New Year's Eve does she remember the exaltation of crowds, that uplift like singing hymns. She remembers the press of bodies like the press of her palms together as she prays. There was something holy in it, or wholly human, at least. She touches the place on her shoulder where the skunk is. There aren't a lot of mirrors at the monastery and she's always robed, so she doesn't see it very often. Most of the time she forgets it's there. She doesn't have a calendar either, but December 31st rolls around and she wakes up and sees confetti in the way the light splashes the wall. The morning tea tastes like day-old champagne. All the hymns in chapel sound like "Auld Lang Syne". She hunches her shoulder forward.

At midnight, she feels dizzy with the pressure of memory. She whispers her given name to herself. At 12:01, she is Sister Mary Augustine, tidy and blameless. She goes to sleep on her hard cot and doesn't dream.


End file.
